


Country Mouse City Mouse

by Bookah



Category: Original Work
Genre: Complete, F/F, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Romance, Lesbian Sex, Opposites Attract, POV Lesbian Character, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rural, Urban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 15:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16307900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookah/pseuds/Bookah
Summary: An urbanite and a ruralite seem an odd match. But for the two women, it's a sweet blending of worlds.





	Country Mouse City Mouse

Her lover has a rancher’s hands. They’re rough, leathery, with little burs and catches that scrape her skin, no matter how tender and delicate the ranch woman is being. It is only natural. The woman bucks hay, shears sheep, repairs barbed wire fences. It’s a hard job, a hard life, and it’s hard on the body, especially the hands.

She tolerates it with amused exasperation, that scratching. Sometimes it would be nice to be caressed by soft hands, with delicate skin. To feel a touch that’s barely a tickle as it explores her stomach, her hips, her thighs. Instead it is that scratchy, leathery treatment whenever her lover is in the mood and, though it’s not always what she desires, it is always worth it.

Her lover’s nose gently bumps against her cheek, and she smiles softly, knowing it signals her ranch woman’s growing ardor. It’s a tentative touch, a precursor, establishing a sense of the distance to be covered, the place to be closed, and then…

Lips, slightly chapped from the wind and the sun of the demi-desert. They flutter against her cheek in soft kisses that quickly climb. A brief kiss against her eyelid, and then her lover has found her goal. She sighs softly as the woman’s lips gently, toothlessly nibble at her eyebrows, pulling and playing at them. She’s not so fond of her eyebrows, the thick, european mess of hair. She’s thought of plucking them, or at least styling them, into something thinner and more delicate. But her ranch woman won’t have it. She loves them, loves playing with them using her lips.

Then a cheek softly drifts against her own. She knows that, were there light to see, the skin would be red, with the lightest of wrinkles and sunspots that showed how often her lover felt the furnace blast of desert winds and sunlight. But in the dark all she can do is feel how, in contrast to the rancher’s hands now tangling in her hair, the woman’s face still feels soft in that affectionate rubbing of cheek on cheek.

“I love how soft the skin of your face is,” her ranch woman says.

She smiles, her own, slender office worker’s hands tickling along the woman’s back. Her own touch is the sweet, feathery thing that she longs for, aided by how sedentary her own life is. She knows the effect it has on others, that delicate, almost ghost-like whisper of a touch on the ribs, the massage-like squeezing of the ass, the tentative cupping of breasts. But what she loves most is…

She feels her lover shiver a little as she brings her hands down to cross hips and then sweep in to caress the ranch woman’s inner thighs. They are ever so soft. Velveteen. Silken skin covers the twisted iron of her lover’s muscled legs, and she couldn’t delight more at how it feels when office soft fingers stroke that sweet bit of skin along the inside of her lover’s legs.

Her fingers slip away, and she feels the ranch woman tense ever so slightly in delighted disappointment as the touch retreats back to run along her lover’s spine. She knows what the woman is thinking, what she wants. She wants it too. But not just yet. Not quite now.

Her lover shifts, and she feels nipples mark twin trails down her own gravity flattened mounds. She can feel the paths so blazed, their delicate touch so much like the caresses she sometimes desires, and she smiles. It is more than enough compensation for the roughness of those rancher hands, and she feels the aching need her lover has been stoking within her grow all the stronger.

The ranch woman laughs a little then. “That tickled, and I can’t even blame you.”

She smiles, and pulls her hands up to gently squeeze and grope and pinch the tickles away. The ranch woman straddling her squirmed, her breath a telling thing, and she arched upward on her elbows, pulling a dangling breast to her mouth. Her lips explored, kissing, sucking, nibbling, until she caught an erect nub at which she could suckle.

“Ouch. Too hard.”

Wincing a bit, she let the breast free, realizing her lust had gotten a bit carried away. She loved her ranch woman’s breasts, and sometimes her affection got away from her, leaving hickies and small tooth marks on the tough woman’s skin. She gentled herself, giving the still hanging breast a soft kiss by way of apology.

The apology was accepted in the best of ways as rough fingers dipped down, combing through a tangled mass of curls to cup a needy thing between her legs. She groaned, her hips pushing upward to grind against the palm now massaging her, pinching minor lips against major to torment her so sweetly, and she could feel the little burrs and catches on the woman’s palms grow wet, slippery, and knew that soon they would be softened, unnoticed, an effect of her own excitement.

She reached around to grasp at her lover’s bottom, squeezing and fondling it, pulling the cheeks apart then pushing them together in an intimate massage. She needed to lift herself up a bit in order to reach, her upper body held in place by the grip her hands had, deepening the contact. She lifted even higher so that she could crawl her fingers inward until one hand could reach the cleft below the ranch woman’s spine. A probing finger felt around, following the path until she could feel the wrinkled, tight little opening there, and she began gently circling and rubbing.

Her lover made a small, inarticulate sound that encouraged her. She knew that the woman loved the feel of little office worker fingers back there, teasing and exploring. It was not something she herself enjoyed, but she found her lover’s clear enjoyment of it caused her to delight in doing it to the ranch woman, do it for her.

She quickly brought her hand up to her mouth, inserting a finger and tonguing it, leaving it not just moistened, but dripping, with a runnel making its way, warm and slippery, down to the knuckle on her hand. Satisfied, she swept her hand back to its former exploration and, with practiced ease, she violated her lover’s ass, sinking the finger in to the second knuckle.

It was an odd, but surprisingly interesting feeling for her. The first inch was tight, though not so much as to cause discomfort for either of them. But past that, things opened up and soft, manipulatable walls formed a little cavern her finger could curl inside. She could poke at a wall, stroking her lover from the inside, and she could even drag the tip as she pulled the finger almost completely out, then push back in, she had moistened that invasive finger so much.

The ranch woman groaned, leaning forward into her until their chests once again pressed together, and lips began running over her forehead, her eyebrows, her temple. Her lover’s spine arched so that her hips curled back, making access easier and placing less pressure on her wrist as she fingered the woman, the fingers not inside pushing forward to massage the nether lips now easily reached.

She felt her own eager breath push out of her in a long, pleased sigh as two fingers parted her, grinding over a little, wet, erect nub before entering her. Her lover knew how to please, curling those softening fingers to hook, pull, and rub her from her little bud to that spot on the front wall of her delicacy that made her toes curl.

They tortured one another sweetly like that, ravaging one another, for an eternity that ended too soon. She felt the tingling heat spreading out, from core to extremity, as her ranch woman expertly took away any ability to think, to know, to be the office woman and transported her into nothing but throbbing animal ecstasy. In a mere moment that felt like forever her hips were rocking, her breath exploding out, her heart thundering in her ears.

She felt the twitching on her finger, felt the tightness throb, pinching and releasing in waves as her ranch woman climaxed, knowing it was less the physical sensation of being rubbed and fingered and more the knowledge of the power she held over her office girl that caused it. She liked it. Liked knowing that her lover could climax just from that understanding, loved feeling how the woman’s body betrayed how strongly she could be affected by the psychological through how powerfully her muscled little ass squeezed that finger even as the small cavern inside grew.

Spent, she fell backward, her finger slipping free while still moist, saving her lover the pain of having the finger ripped out after becoming dry. A wet hand stroked it’s way up her lower lips, leaving them wet, cold air invading her open, soaked chamber almost painfully. A soft, wet palm cupped her cheek, and she could smell her arousal on it as her ranch woman bent down to press a kiss to her lips.

“I love you, little mouse.”

“I love you too, little mouse.”


End file.
